The Lucky One
by Sam.J.Eller
Summary: When one brother loses sight of his own value, the other is always quick to recover it for him; be it blatantly or subtly, purposefully or unintentionally, indelicately or tactfully, they have always been there to restore each other's self-worth. Two-Shot. Teenchester Flashback.
1. Chapter 1

Note: This was a little unintentional. It started as one thing and totally transformed on me, but I hope you still like it :)

* * *

Sam tapped his foot restlessly.

Dean was waiting.

He knew his brother would have finished at the morgue by now.

The hunter was probably already sitting in the Impala out front.

Waiting.

Sam began to drum his fingers on the desk.

He hated to keep Dean waiting.

Especially when he knew his brother was hurting and exhausted.

They had just finished a hunt last night and things had gotten a bit…sticky. Dean had wrenched his left knee pretty badly and Sam had received a minor concussion. The hunt had attracted too much attention and the authorities had been on their tales, forcing the hunters to vacate the state immediately. They had been driving most the night, well Dean had. The older man refused to let Sam behind the wheel, regardless of how much pain his knee was in. The younger brother had insisted, but Dean had been adamant that his concussed sibling was not permitted to operate his baby. Sam had played his part, grumbling and whining about Dean's obsession with the Impala, when - in reality - the youngest Winchester knew full well that it was him being protected, not the car. Sam had done his best to stay awake and keep his brother company during the over-night journey, but his pulsing skull, the soothing rumble of the engine, and the idiot who kept turning the hot air up had eventually lulled the passenger to sleep. Dean had been up all night, only acquiring a few meager hours of rest once they had arrived in Montana this morning, before waking-up and having to jump in on researching the next job. The newest supernatural creature they were hunting had a strict schedule, and the boys had to find it before its next kill. However, Sam had recently discovered that the pair did have a little more time than they had previously thought, and he was determined to use that new-found leeway to force his big brother into getting some much-needed rest.

Sam felt a vibration against his thigh and quickly pulled his cell from his pocket, answering the moment he spotted 'De' on the screen.

"Hey, what'd you find out?" He asked.

"Nothing we didn't already know. How's it going at geek-central?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "The _library_ is fine. But they haven't computerized the city records, so I had to sort through a mountain of paper-work by hand."

"Sounds like a party."

"Oh, yeah, definitely."

Dean snorted in response to the sarcasm.

"I am getting copies made of some of the more significant documents."

"Alright, I'm out front when you're ready."

"It might be a while." Sam reported regretfully, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the elderly librarian struggling with the archaic photocopier.

"That's fine. I can wait."

"You don't have to."

"It's fine, dude. I don't mind. I'd come in if I wasn't afraid of catching book-germs."

Sam snorted at his brother's lame excuse, but he sobered a second later when his brain reminded him of the real reason Dean didn't want to enter the library. He was in pain, his knee had to be killing him.

"Just go back to the motel and rest up, maybe put some ice on your knee." The younger brother suggested.

"My knee is fine."

"Bullshit."

"It's no worse-off than your head, which is probably pounding after all the reading you just did."

Sam frowned, because of course his big brother was spot on. The younger man's skull was aching, but that didn't mean that Dean should have to suffer as well.

"Seriously, man, I don't know how long this is going to take. Just head back to the motel and I'll meet you there."

"How, Sam? You going to teleport?" Dean inquired incredulously.

"I'll walk."

"All the way across town? I don't think so." The older man dismissed.

"Then I'll catch a cab." Sam suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous." Dean scoffed.

The younger brother shook his head in silent exasperation. He was a grown-ass man, and was still forbidden to acquire his own transportation.

There were days that Dean's protective nature made Sam feel both loved and smothered.

"Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"Do what you need to do. I'll wait."

But mostly loved.

"You don't have to." Sam stated so softly that it wasn't much more than a whisper.

"C'mon kid, when have I ever had a problem waiting for you?" Dean questioned in a surprisingly sincere tone.

The taller man cocked his head to the side as he leaned back against the front desk, trying to think of a time - just one damn time - that Dean hadn't waited for him. Sure, there were occasions when his brother complained about the length of his shower, but that was it. Sam couldn't think of a single instance when Dean hadn't been more than okay with waiting for his little brother.

He used to wait for Sam to be ready for school in the mornings, and for him to finish his homework before training, and for him to finish his laps – prior to the younger boy's growth spurt Dean always had him beat – before sparring. Sam always found his big brother waiting for him outside of every school he ever attended in his childhood.

Every school but one.

Sam got lost in his own mind as the memory of that one school grabbed hold of him.

 _Sam sauntered up to the high school, stopping next to the tree standing outside the large building._

 _He dropped his book bag on the ground, and tiredly leaned back against the tree trunk, holding his casted arm against his chest. He had been given a sling for the injured limb, but had left it back at the motel. His broken arm was obvious enough thanks to the big white cast, he didn't need a bright blue sling to attract any more attention. Sam couldn't even fit his arm into his jacket, so he stuffed the outerwear into his backpack. He didn't want to only wear it half-on like he had been this morning, because it looked stupid, or so all the other kids had told him. Thankfully, the shirt he was wearing was a hand-me-down (as were all his shirts) and stretched easily over his cast._

 _Sam winced, leaning more heavily against the bark at his back, and cradling the pulsing limb. The young boy began to restlessly tap his feet against the ground. He didn't mind waiting for Dean - really he didn't - he had been doing it every day for almost a month, but today he was tired. He was tired, he was cold, and his arm was killing him. Today Sam didn't have a lot of patience. He wanted to go back to the hotel where it was at least warm, where he could get some pain killers, and maybe some soup. He wanted this crappy day to end._

 _But more than anything, Sam wanted Dean._

 _He wanted his big brother to march out of those doors and walk straight to the tree they always met at after school. He wanted the older boy nearby._

 _Because Dean always made everything better._

 _Sam shifted against the tree, his eyes trained on the doors from which his brother would soon appear._

 _Just not soon enough._

 _A small group of older boys were loitering out front, a couple dozen feet away from the youngest Winchester. Sam had seen the boys before, they were Dean's friends or at least they knew him and liked him. They usually exited the school with the teen or would wave or nod at him when he left._

 _Sam thought the three boys looked older than his big brother, but Dean appeared older than he was and he was the absolute coolest; so, Sam imagined that all the kids in school would want to hang out with the teen, regardless of his age._

 _Sam smiled to himself. He felt so lucky to have such a cool big brother. His smile faltered, as his traitorous mind reminded him that Dean wasn't so lucky. Dean didn't have a cool brother._

 _Sam was a dork. A short, small, skinny, looks-younger-than-his-age eleven-year-old, **that** was the brother Dean got stuck with. A brother who was often the target of bullies and always seemed to be getting hurt. A brother who constantly needed to be taken care of. A brother who wasn't popular, cool, fast, or strong. A brother who was no better at making friends than he was at hunting. _

_No, Dean didn't get lucky at all._

 _"Who's this tiny twit?"_

 _Sam flinched at the question. He had been so busy wallowing in his own short-comings, that he had neglected to notice the approach of the three teenagers. They were close, and moving closer, as they all stared down at him._

 _Sam opened his mouth to answer, but one of the teens - the one with spikey hair - spoke first._

 _"That's Winchester's brat." He declared with a sneer._

 _Sam frowned at the description. He liked being Dean's brother, he was proud of it. Why was he being ridiculed for it?_

 _"So, this is the fun-sucking twerp we keep hearing about." The tallest one grumbled, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers._

 _Sam glared up at the older boy, distractedly wondering what Dean had been saying about him to his schoolmates; however, he quickly disposed of such an absurd thought. His big brother would never say bad things about him, especially to strangers. Sure, sometimes he got annoyed with Sam and on occasion the two of them would fight, but the preteen couldn't imagine Dean ever ridiculing or insulting him in front of other people._

 _"Get away from me." Sam bit out, trying to sound far tougher than he was currently feeling, as he stood backed up against a tree and surrounded by three much older boys who were all leering down at him._

 _The group of teens laughed, the tallest taking a long drag of his cigarette before bending forward and blowing the smoke directly into Sam's face. The younger boy coughed, his scalp knocking against the tree trunk as he angled his head away. A harsh grip snagged his chin and forced his head forward, as another exhale of smoke was released in his face. Sam choked and hacked as the poisoned air infiltrated his lungs. He reached out to push the older boy away, only to have both his arms grabbed by the other two teens._

 _"What the hell?" Inquired the one students - who had yet to speak - as his hand wrapped around Sam's cast._

 _He tugged the child's sleeve up, revealing the stark white material beneath._

 _"Oh, look at that, the little shit has a busted bone." The leader stated with a smile, reaching out toward the injured limb._

 _"Don't!" Sam shouted, fighting to pull away. But the hold on his cast was iron, and his other wrist was still locked in the spikey-haired-teen's grip._

 _"Did your big brother do this, huh?" The tallest boy asked with an all-too-gleeful grin, pulling the cast closer to him._

 _Sam cried out in pain as his damaged arm was handled with such careless aggression_

 _"I'm not surprised. Did he finally get sick of that short fucking leash you keep him on?"_

 _Sam had been ready to shout and curse at the three teens towering over him, he had been planning to make a scene, but that question threw him off. He froze, stopping his struggle as he stared up at the smoker._

 _"What?" He choked out, fear and confusion creating a tornado of turmoil inside of him._

 _"You know exactly what I'm talking about, you fucking stain."_

 _Sam cringed at the insult, and the harsh tug on his arm._

 _"Your big bro hasn't been able to have any fun, he hasn't gone to a single damn party, because he's too busy looking out for your worthless ass."_

 _"But I- I never—_

 _Sam wanted to proclaim that he had never forced or even requested that Dean stay home with him instead of going out, but he wasn't given the chance._

 _"The dude could have screwed Jessica Landsale more than a dozen times by now, if he wasn't so busy babysitting you." The teen spat._

 _Sam opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water, but he couldn't find any defense to give. He may have never demanded that his big brother stay with him, but he knew that he was the reason Dean didn't go out at night._

 _"I figured that you somehow had the poor guy whipped, but I can see now that he makes you pay for leeching the goddamn life out of him." The tallest teenager snickered, pulling again at Sam's casted arm._

 _"You're wrong. Dean would never hurt me!" The smallest boy argued, his voice strong and sure, even as his bottom lip quivered with emotion._

 _"Your broken arm says different." The leader ridiculed with a laugh._

 _Sam ripped his good arm from the teen's grip, and swung at the tall body in front of him. The well-rehearsed right hook, made a swift and solid connection with the smoker's chin. The cigarette fell from his mouth, as the tall boy dropped down on his ass._

 _Sam's smirk of success was only present for the briefest of moments, before his arm was re-captured and ruthlessly restrained._

 _"You mother-fucking pissant!" He hollered, climbing quickly to his feet and advancing on the young boy._

 _The eleven-year-old cried out as he was shoved violently into the tree trunk. His spine was slammed mercilessly into the bark and a shock of pain reverberated up from his tailbone all the way to his skull._

 _"You're going to pay for that, you little maggot." The teen spewed, his face inches from Sam's._

 _"Zack, here."_

 _Sam glanced to his right, and watched as the other teen placed something into the taller one's hand._

 _"Fuck-yes." Zack exclaimed with a wicked grin._

 _Sam's eyes grew as he saw the permanent marker being toyed with in the nicotine-stained fingers._

 _"Hold him." He instructed._

 _"What are you doing?" Sam asked, ashamed at the shrill panic he could here ringing in his own voice, as the two teens at his sides held him firm against the tree._

 _Sam tried to kick out with his feet, but his legs were too short to do any good and all the boys did was laugh at his efforts before stepping on his feet to contain them._

 _"Let me go." Sam shouted, relentlessly and purposelessly struggling against his human restraints._

 _"We will. Right after I sign your cast." The leader – Zack – declared cheerfully._

 _Sam fought to move the white plaster away from the cruel teenager, but the grip on his injured limb was too hard and the young boy was forced to watch the permanent marker violate the blank canvas._

 _He couldn't read what it said, Zack's hand was in the way, but Sam knew it would be something awful. Something awful that he would have to wear for months before the cast could be removed. Sam sniffled miserably at the thought, trying to swallow his distress, refusing to give his tormentors the satisfaction of making him cry._

 _Zack finished his inscription, smiling through the entire process, and opened his mouth. Sam figured he was about to read out what had been written, but he would never know because the bell interrupted before a word could be spoken. The moment the ring sounded through the air all three of the teenagers released Sam and stepped back. They were still crowding the kid, but no longer restraining him. Sam nearly collapsed, his back aching as he struggled to steady himself by placing his good arm against the tree._

 _"You can tattle on us to your bro, you little twit, but just remember that we can make his life a living hell if we want to." Zack threatened, leaning back into Sam's space and aggressively forcing his shirt sleeve back down over the graffitied plaster. "Then again, he would probably thank us for teaching your dumb-ass a lesson." He added, straightening up to his full height._

 _Sam shied away. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't help but shrink back in fear._

 _"Hey! Get the hell away from him!"_

 _Dean's booming order brought immediate relief to Sam's soul._

 _The younger boy knew when the bell rang-out that his brother would appear soon, Dean was always one of the first students out the door when school ended. He had been rapidly exiting the building every day all month, because he knew that Sam was waiting and he didn't like that. He had been annoyed when they arrived in town and he found out that the high school didn't let out until thirty-minutes after the elementary school. The youngest Winchester had been okay with it, the two buildings were close together and he didn't mind walking over and waiting. Dean always waited for Sam out front of all the other schools, so it was only fair that the younger boy took his turn._

 _Sam had to stop himself from running to his big brother. Not that it was necessary, Dean was practically sprinting towards the tree._

 _"Hey, Dean, what's up?" Zack greeted casually, taking another step away from Sam. The teen's tone was nothing like it had been when he communicated with the eleven-year-old. It was light and playful now, instead of wickedly amused and threatening._

 _But Dean didn't care. Sam could see that clear as day._

 _His brother was furious._

 _"You're way too fucking close to my kid brother, that's what's up." Dean seethed, stepping into the group, planting himself firmly in front of Sam._

 _The younger boy released a breath he hadn't known he was holding, once the great-wall-of-Dean was situated between him and the danger._

 _"Back the hell up!" Dean shouted, crowding Zack's space._

 _The teen raised his hands defensively and took a couple more steps back, but the smile never fell from his face, not even for a moment._

 _"What was going on here?" Dean asked, his tone demanding a response._

 _"Dude, we were just chatting with the kid, it's no big deal." The spikey-haired teen stated. He wasn't smiling as he backed away. Sam had no doubt that all three boys could see the fire he knew was alight in his brother's vibrant eyes._

 _"Chat's over now. Get lost." Dean growled._

 _The two shorter teens began to back off even further, but Zack didn't move._

 _"C'mon, Dean. Don't be like that. I thought we were cool, man." The taller boy claimed._

 _"Yeah, Zack, we were. Until I came out here and saw you towering over my little brother, you smug sonuvabitch."_

 _Finally, the teenager's amused grin dissipated, but Sam shied away at the dangerous glint that returned to the boy's eyes._

 _"That's a big mistake, Winchester." He warned darkly._

 _Dean stepped forward, becoming impossibly more threatening as he reached out and snagged Zack's collar. Dean appeared shorter and younger than the other teen, but that didn't seem to bother him as he dragged the boy forward and got right in his face._

 _"No, you made the mistake, asshole. The second you went near my kid brother. You stay the fuck away from him from now on. And if you or your goons ever so much as speak to him again, I will rip your lungs out." Dean vowed in a deep thundering voice, before shoving Zack backwards._

 _The three teenagers stalked off, but the tallest one didn't move away before sending a sinister look at the two Winchesters. Sam gripped the back of his brother's coat, and Dean reached an arm behind him and wrapped it protectively around the smaller boy, as he stepped further in front of him and completely blocked him from Zack's furious glare._

 _It wasn't until the trio was out of sight, that Dean stood down and turned to face Sam._

 _"What happened? What were those scumbags doing? Did they hurt you?" The older boy questioned, ducking down and checking Sam over._

 _"I'm okay, Dean." The child answered in the most reassuring voice he could muster._

 _Dean shook his head._

 _"You're not. You're scared. I saw the fear on your face the moment I stepped out the door. What did those assholes do to you?"_

 _"Nothing, really. They were just talking."_

 _"Talking about what?"_

 _"Just- just stuff." Sam evaded with a shrug._

 _"Did they threaten you?" Dean questioned, glancing menacingly over his shoulder, as though the teens were still standing there._

 _"They just called me names, it's not a big deal."_

 _"Those bastards!" The older boy shouted, standing to his full height and turning back toward the school._

 _"Dean, please. It's nothing. I'm fine. Can we just go?" Sam requested._

 _He wanted to leave. He didn't want Dean to go after the boys._

 _He didn't want his big brother to get hurt._

 _He just wanted to go home, and he couldn't be home without Dean._

 _Because Dean was home._

 _"Please." He repeated softly, tugging on the taller boy's jacket._

 _The teen seemed reluctant, but eventually turned back toward his brother._

 _"Okay, Sammy. We can go." He stated softly._

 _Sam sighed in relief, moving to grab his bag, but was stopped by the hand that landed on his shoulder._

 _"Where's your coat?" Dean asked, glancing around._

 _"In my bag. It' doesn't fit over my cast. Looks stupid." Sam mumbled to the ground._

 _He looked up when he heard movement, and watched Dean slip out of his jacket._

 _"I'm okay, you don't—_

 _"Shut-up, Sam. You've been standing out here for half an hour, I can see how cold you are, and we still have to walk back to the motel."_

 _"But you—_

 _"I'll be fine. I've got lots of muscle and fat keeping me warm. Your skinny-ass doesn't have any of that." Dean pointed out, winking playfully at Sam as he helped thread the casted arm through the sleeve, before zipping the jacket up._

 _"I'm not that skinny." Sam sulked._

 _"Sure, kiddo. Whatever you say. How about we get out of here now?"_

 _The younger boy nodded appreciatively, bending to snag his discarded backpack from the base of the tree, but his big brother beat him to it._

 _"I can carry it."_

 _"I know you can. And when you get that cast off, I might even let you." Dean announced with a smirk, slinging his arm over Sam's narrow shoulders as they started their stroll down the street to the motel._

 _Sam remained silent at the mention of the cumbersome object encasing his left arm. He was both itching and dreading to discover what had been scrawled on the white plaster, but he didn't want to risk Dean seeing it._

 _"How bad is it?"_

 _"What?" Sam asked, glancing up to the right, the side Dean always walked on, the side closest to the road._

 _"Your arm, how much does it hurt?" He questioned, his eyes squinted in concern as he nodded at the limb Sam hadn't even noticed he was cradling._

 _"Not bad, it's just sore." The younger boy shrugged dismissively, letting his arm fall to his side, hoping that not holding it against his chest would make it easier to forget – or rather make it easier for Dean to forget._

 _"I know you don't like the sling, dude, but the support would probably make your arm feel a lot better."_

 _"It doesn't." Sam mumbled to the pavement._

 _He heard his big brother suck in a deep slightly-frustrated breath, but was relieved when the older teen made no further comment._

 _Once they arrived back at the motel Dean helped his little brother remove the large jacket and then the young boy slipped quickly into the bathroom, locking the door behind him._

 _Sam took a few deep breaths before he reached down and tugged the hand-me-down sleeve up and out of the way._

 ** _Worthless Mother-Fucking Pissant_**

 _He failed to hold back a sob as he read the black inscription._

 _"Sammy?"_

 _The boy snapped his jaw shut, blinking the tears from his eyes, and breathing sharply through his nose as he fought to calm himself._

 _"What's going on in there?" Dean questioned, as Sam heard him lean against the door and tap on it softly._

 _"Nothing." He choked out, wincing at how much distress had smuggled its way into the simple word._

 _There was no way his big brother was going to back off now._

 _"Bullshit. Open the door, Sam."_

 _Typical._

 _"I'm fine, Dean. Please just leave me alone." The child requested, knowing he would be denied the petition for privacy the moment he heard his own voice crack._

 _"No way, kiddo. You know I can't do that."_

 _His big brother may not have left things alone like Sam wanted him to, but he had softened. Dean's voice had adopted that soothing comforting quality it always did when he was trying to get Sam to open-up._

 _"Talk to me, Sammy."_

 _It wasn't an order or a demand, it was a plea. And no matter how hurt or humiliated the youngest Winchester was, he would always cave to his big brother when he sounded like that._

 _Sam tugged his sleeve back down over the plaster, before reaching out and unlocking the door. Dean took that as the invitation it was, and slowly stepped into the small space._

 _"What's going on, kiddo?" He inquired, glancing around the bathroom before his worried gaze returned to the sniffling eleven-year-old._

 _"I need a marker." Sam declared, satisfied that he kept his voice steady._

 _"Okay, random. What do you need a marker for?"_

 _"Do you have one?"_

 _"No, dude. All we have is a couple of pens, and Dad might have left the highlighter on the table."_

 _Sam shook his head._

 _"No, those won't work. I need a marker. A permanent marker."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"I just need it!" Sam almost shouted, his desperation rising as he thought of the cruel words scribbled on his cast._

 _"Hey, buddy. Calm down. We'll find one, alright? I will get you one, but not until you tell me why you need it so badly." Dean bargained, crouching down in front of Sam, so that his face was level with the younger boy's._

 _Sam chewed on his bottom lip. He didn't want Dean to know what had happened. But he needed that marker. He didn't want to go to school on Monday and risk the other kids seeing the inscription. He also knew that Dean was bound to notice it soon enough._

 _"You have to promise not to get angry." Sam replied._

 _The teen shook his head._

 _"You know I can't do that, Sam."_

 _The smaller brother sighed, flicking the hair out of his eyes before responding._

 _"You have to promise not to get angry with me."_

 _Dean squinted, his green eyes examining Sam's face, and making the smaller boy wish that he had left his bangs curtaining his features._

 _"Okay, I promise." The older boy agreed after a moment._

 _Sam released a sigh of relief, because Dean never broke his promises._

 _He hooked his fingers onto the edge of the stained grey sleeve, and pulled it up over the cumbersome cast, revealing the vile words boldly-written beneath._

 _"What the hell?" Dean breathed, reaching out for the broken limb._

 _Sam tensed, bracing himself for the pain as Dean took hold of his arm, but none came; the teenager's large hands were nothing but gentle as they manipulated the limb. The younger boy watched as his brother trailed his long fingers over the vivid lettering._

 _He was looking to see Dean's reaction, but all he could see was his brown hair, as his head was angled down._

 _"Who did this?"_

 _Sam may not have been able to see any emotion, but he had no problem hearing the venom in his brother's tone._

 _The child didn't answer, knowing that the older Winchester would soon figure the truth out on his own. None of the kids at Sam's school had a vocabulary as vulgar as the words etched out on the medical material. He didn't even think any of the elementary school kids knew what a pissant was._

 _"Did those assholes do this to you?" Dean barked, looking up, his face a collage of shock, misery, and rage. He had clearly arrived at his own conclusion, but was awaiting confirmation._

 _Sam continued to gnaw on his bottom lip as he nodded._

 _Dean grazed his fingers over the hateful engraving once more, before abruptly releasing his brother's arm and standing to his full height._

 _"I'm going to kill them." He growled, rapidly exiting the bathroom._

 _"No, Dean. Stop!" Sam called out, rushing after his brother and snagging the sleeve of his green button-up shirt._

 _Dean paused, his breath coming fast and hard as he turned to look down at his little brother. Sam could see the fire in the green eyes, and knew that the infuriated teenager wanted nothing more than to go seek vengeance. The child could tell that his big brother was fighting hard not to shake off Sam's grip and book it out the front door._

 _"Stay. Please."_

 _The two simple words were all that was required to alleviate the teen's temptation to take-off; not that the gentle tug of the sleeve or the moisture-filled eyes weren't of any assistance. However, Sam didn't release the breath he had been holding, until the teen angled himself fully away from the motel room door._

 _Dean slid his hands beneath Sam's armpits and swiftly lifted the child off the ground. Sam was placed on the kitchen counter, just a couple feet away and a children's Advil was promptly placed in his palm. He gratefully popped the medication into his mouth, and chased it down with the glass of water that appeared in front of him. The cup vanished as quickly as it had materialized and Dean leaned down toward Sam, placing a hand on either side of the boy's knees as they rested on the counter-top._

 _The youngest Winchester stared at the older one through the fringe of his hair, waiting for him to speak._

 _"Sam, Why—_

 _The words died on the teen's lips as his eyes grew. Sam looked down, searching for what it was that had caught his brother's attention. Long fingers wrapped around his uninjured forearm, and brought the limb forward._

 _"Did they do that too?" Dean bit out, his thumb grazing over Sam's right wrist; it was only then that the small boy spotted the bruise forming on his pale skin. It hadn't been there earlier, and those guys had been quite aggressive in their efforts to restrain him._

 _Sam nodded._

 _Fury flashed across the Dean's expression, as he released Sam's arm._

 _"Did they hurt you anywhere else?"_

 _The eleven-year-old shook his head._

 _"Sam." Dean warned._

 _"My back." He confessed. "They – uh – they pushed me against the tree."_

 _"Let me see." Dean demanded briskly._

 _Sam obediently leaned forward, sighing softly as he dropped his forehead against his brother's broad shoulder, resting against the firm frame._

 _Dean released a soft chuckle, his fingers brushing through Sam's shaggy hair before they slid down his back to the hem of his shirt. The young boy remained relaxed against his older brother as he felt his shirt pulled up, he shivered as his bare skin was exposed. He heard and felt Dean's chest rise in a gasp, which meant there must have been evidence of the pain pulsing up and down Sam's spine._

 _"Those bastards!" Dean's voice dripped with ire, but his touch was feather-light as he gently felt his way up Sam's spine._

 _"Bruised?" Sam mumbled into the fifteen-year-old's shoulder._

 _"Yeah. Half your goddamn back is black." He reported darkly._

 _"Already?" Sam wondered aloud, shamelessly nuzzling against his brother's collarbone, wincing as Dean placed pressure on a particularly sore spot._

 _"How much does it hurt?" Dean questioned, pulling the child's shirt back into place before sliding his hand to rest on the back of Sam's neck beneath the shaggy mess of hair, giving it a comforting squeeze._

 _"Not bad. Just sore. Makes me forget about my arm." The youngest Winchester pointed out optimistically._

 _Dean grunted, his right hand coming up to comb through Sam's long brown locks as his left squeezed the kid's neck once again._

 _"Why didn't you tell me, Sammy?"_

 _Sam frowned at the question, and the despair he detected in his brother's tone._

 _"I did." He answered, listening to the thump of Dean's heartbeat._

 _"Why didn't you tell me before? When I saw you with those assholes?" The teen clarified._

 _Sam sighed, shrugging in response._

 _He had hoped that would be enough of an answer, but inside he knew that there was no chance Dean would settle for it._

 _Sam moaned his objection as Dean took hold of his slender shoulders and pushed him upright. The vibrant green eyes levelled the young boy with a stern look._

 _"They said they were your friends." Sam muttered._

 _The tall teenager snorted in disgust._

 _"What else did they say?"_

 _The smaller brother looked down at his feet dangling above the floor as he whispered his reply._

 _"The truth."_

 _"That'd be a shocker." Dean scoffed. "What truth was that exactly?"_

 _"That I ruin everything."_

 _"They said that?" Dean snapped._

 _"Not exactly."_

 _"Then what exactly did they say?"_

 _Sam sucked in a long breath before delivering a response._

 _"That I keep you on a short leash." He quoted._

 _The teen's baffled expression was an open portrayal of his confusion._

 _"They said that you never go to parties 'cause of me. And that you could have hooked up with the girl Jessica lots of times by now, if you weren't stuck babysitting me."_

 _"That sounds like the truth to you?" Dean inquired_

 _"Isn't it? Isn't that what you tell them about me?"_

 _"You think I would ever say that about you?"_

 _The disbelief in Dean's tone was both comforting and confusing to his little brother._

 _"They said that I was the fun-sucking twerp they were always hearing about." Sam explained with a shrug. "I thought maybe that was the kind of stuff you told them about me."_

 _Dean's silence caused Sam to glance up from the swinging feet he had been concentrating on. The teenager's mouth was open, but no words were coming out. Sam tried to think of what he had said wrong, and made an effort to fix it._

 _"It would be okay if you did. It's all true."_

 _That remark put an instantaneous end to the older boy's silence._

 _"You think that bullshit was true?" He nearly shouted in outrage._

 _Sam shied away at the exclamation, which resulted in his brother quieting his voice._

 _"You seriously think that, Sam?" He repeated earnestly, ducking down into the young boy's line of sight._

 _"I keep you from having any fun. You never go out with your friends, 'cause you're stuck with me."_

 _"I'm not stuck anywhere. I choose to stay with you."_

 _Sam frowned, it seemed like the same thing to him, either way Dean didn't get to have any fun._

 _The teenager released an exasperated sigh, before elaborating._

 _"You have been on your own a hell of a lot, kiddo. A lot more than I like to think about."_

 _The younger boy squinted, unsure what point his brother was trying to make._

 _"You don't need anyone to babysit you. If I wanted to go out, I could go out. You aren't trapping me here. I choose to be here. Because I am my own goddamn person and I can make my own decisions about what to do with my time. And I choose to spend it with you."_

 _"Why?" Sam questioned, honestly confused as to why someone as cool as Dean - someone who could do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted – chose to spend his free time with his lame little brother._

 _Dean raised his eyebrows briefly, before his features softened and he leaned forward, moving in closer to Sam, their faces mere inches apart._

 _"Because I like you, Sam. Because I like hanging out with you."_

 _"But – but I'm not cool like your friends."_

 _"Yeah, some friends I have." Dean spat bitterly. "Those scumbags treated you like shit. They lied to you, they upset you, they wrote that bullshit on your cast, they put their fucking hands on you, and that fucker Zack smoked near you, didn't he?"_

 _The younger boy bit his lip._

 _"I can smell it on you." Dean added._

 _"He kept blowing it in my face." Sam admitted miserably._

 _"That sonuvabitch! I'm going to tear him apart!" The teenager vowed, pushing away from the counter._

 _"You can't!" The smaller boy proclaimed, reaching forward with his good arm and latching onto his brother's sleeve._

 _"Why the hell not?"_

 _"Because he said he could make things bad for you!"_

 _"Zack said that?"_

 _Sam nodded._

 _"Is that why you didn't tell me what happened sooner? Did he threaten me to keep you quiet?"_

 _Sam snagged his bottom lip between his teeth as he nodded once again._

 _"Do me a favour, kiddo, alright? Don't ever fall for that shit. Not from asshole teenagers or anybody else."_

 _Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Dean held up a finger, a silent request to be permitted to finish what he was saying._

 _Sam waited._

 _"I can take care of myself, and I can take care of you. So, if anybody ever makes a threat, you come to me, Sammy. Okay?"_

 _"Okay, De." The younger boy agreed, his voice raspy with emotion._

 _"Good." Dean said with a nod._

 _"I'm sorry." Sam whispered._

 _"For what? For being bullied by a bunch of asshats three times your size?"_

 _"No. I'm sorry you didn't get as lucky as I did." Sam hadn't intended to be so honest, but the words fell from his lips before he could stop them._

 _"What are you talking about?" The teen inquired with patient curiosity._

 _"I have the coolest big brother ever."_

 _Dean squinted in what looked to be confusion, but the corners of his mouth pulled upwards in apparent amusement._

 _"But you're stuck with me." Sam mumbled dejectedly, watching as Dean's smile faded to a frown._

 _"And what the hell is so wrong with you?" He queried._

 _The boy seated on the counter-top shrugged, glancing down at his cast, before quickly looking away from the vial words written there._

 _"I'm not cool or fun or popular. I'm boring and dorky and…and a pissant." The child choked out._

 _"Hey! I wouldn't let anyone else call you shit like that. What the fuck makes you think you can?" Dean snapped._

 _Even through his tears, Sam couldn't help but quirk a smile at his brother's remark._

 _"You want to know what I tell the people at school about you?" The teen asked._

 _Sam wasn't sure if he truly did, but he nodded nonetheless._

 _"I tell them that my kid brother is brilliant, that he is the smartest person I know. And that he's funny. That's all I tell them about you, buddy, because I don't like people knowing too much. But If I were to tell them more, I would talk about how awesome you are. I would tell them how independent and stubborn you can be. I would mention how kind you are and how fucking brave you always are. I would tell them all about the times you took care of me when I was sick or injured and all the times you helped save other people. I would tell them about how my kid brother is a fucking hero, and my favourite person on the damn planet."_

 _The eleven-year-old sniffled, swiping at the moisture building in his eyes, as he felt his heart swell inside of him._

 _"And sometimes when they ask me to go someplace, I say that I can't because I am going to hang-out with my little brother. That's all. I don't tell them that I have to babysit, because I don't. And I don't tell them that you're some fun-sucking loser, because you're not. Those assholes lied to you, and they are going to pay for that. But I don't ever want to hear you talking shit about yourself again. You got that?"_

 _Sam nodded, sucking in a shaky breath as a pair of calloused thumbs wiped away the tears that had escaped and were trailing down his cheeks._

 _"That's my boy." Dean praised, grinning as he leaned forward; Sam smiled as his brother placed a chaste kiss atop his head, while simultaneously squeezing the back of his neck._

 _The younger boy eagerly absorbed his big brother's blatant display of affection, drinking in every drop he could get._

 _"I took a swing at them." Sam reported, trying and failing to hide his smile._

 _"Yeah? You land anything?" Dean asked, a smile in his voice, his hand sliding from Sam's neck to his shoulder as he met the younger boy's hazel gaze._

 _Sam nodded. "On Zack's jaw."_

 _Dean barked out a laugh. "Hell, yeah you did!" He praised._

 _Sam couldn't help but grin once he saw his big brother's face glowing with pride. He loved making Dean's green eyes sparkle the way they were in that moment._

 _Sam loved being the reason that the person he loved most in the world had a smile on his face._

 _"Alright, slugger. Let's get you sorted." Dean declared, lifting the smaller boy off the counter and placing him on the floor._

 _Sam stood at his brother's side, looking up at him, awaiting instruction and trusting his big brother to take care of him._

 _Dean's smile was softer this time as he looked down at Sam, and gently ruffled the younger boy's shaggy head of hair._

 _In a few short minutes, Sam found himself situated against the headboard, propped up by a mountain of pillows with towel-wrapped ice against his back. Dean was sitting cross-legged on the mattress next to him, a permanent marker snagged from the motel office being twisted in his long fingers._

 _"Can you just do it already?" Sam queried impatiently, glancing at his brother and then down at the words scribed on his arm, feeling his chest tighten at the sight of them._

 _"Hey. We talked abut this. Stop looking at it. Watch T.V." Dean ordered, two of his fingers reaching up and pressing against Sam's jaw, forcing his gaze back to the Three Stooges playing on the television._

 _Sam huffed, but kept his eyes ahead, even as his mind wandered._

 _It was another minute before the younger boy heard the scratch of the writing utensil against the plaster. He glanced down to his left, to see Dean sketching an odd pattern on his cast._

 _"What are you—_

 _"Eyes on the Stooges, Sammy." The teen instructed, without lifting his concentrated gaze._

 _Sam frowned, but reluctantly did as requested._

 _"I thought you would have signed it already." He pondered aloud._

 _"I'm working on it, kiddo." Dean assured._

 _"No, I meant before. When I got it. You're always the first one to sign it."_

 _'And the only one' Sam thought silently to himself._

 _He sensed his older brother shrug._

 _"I was going to, but you had it all wrapped up in your sling until today. I would have gotten to it." Dean answered, sounding completely sincere._

 _Sam nodded along with the logic, surprised at how relieved he was that his brother had ever intention of signing his cast. Ever since that time Sam had launched himself off the roof of the shed and busted his arm, Dean had always been the first one to sign each and every one of his casts. And Dean's scrawled signature and his funny little doodles always made Sam feel better about his injuries._

 _It was another one of those little things that Dean did that made everything better for Sam._

 _Dean always made everything better._

 _"You know why I hit him?" The younger boy asked, attempting to resist the temptation to look down at his arm._

 _"I can think of a few reasons." The teen growled._

 _Sam smirked, his heart warmed by the protective anger he could hear in his big brother's voice._

 _"He thought that you broke my arm."_

 _The long body at Sam's side went stiff, and straightened from where it had been bent over the plaster canvas._

 _"He thought what?" He spat, his voice drenched in disgust._

 _Sam swallowed, he hadn't intended to re-ignite his big brother's fury._

 _"Yeah, uuh, he thought you did it as payback or something." The younger boy muttered, shrugging as he spoke, doing his best to sound nonchalant while he distractedly watched Curly get smacked over the head with a frying pan._

 _"Payback for what?" Dean asked, in a way that made it clear how absurd he thought the situation to be._

 _Sam gave an evasive shrug, regretting having started their current conversation._

 _Dean kept one hand over the cast, as his other hand came up to grab Sam's chin and angle his face to the left._

 _"I thought you wanted me to watch T.V." Sam recited, doing his best to sound petulant as he smirked at his big brother._

 _"I do. And right after you answer my question you can watch all three of the Stooges pound on each other to your little heart's content." Dean paused, all humour fading from his expression. "Payback for what?" He repeated._

 _Sam sighed, his smirk falling as Zack's words played out in his head._

 _"For 'leeching the goddamn life out of you.'" The young boy quoted, his voice shaking._

 _Sam sucked in a deep breath in an effort to control his emotions, all the while watching Dean's reaction. The teenager's jaw clicked as it was viciously clenched, his nostrils flared, and rage shone through his eyes._

 _"He said that to you?" Dean seethed._

 _Sam nodded, his right fingers reaching forward and latching onto the front of his brother's shirt, tangling in the amulet that rested on top of the fabric. He wanted to keep Dean with him. He could see the anger and he knew the teen wanted nothing more than to go tear apart his little brother's tormentors, but Sam didn't want that. Sam didn't care about Zack and his henchmen._

 _All he cared about was Dean._

 _"You know that's not true? Right?"_

 _Sam blinked, and registered the shift in his brother's expression, from ire to earnest concern._

 _"Right? You know that you don't take anything from me at all? You give, Sammy. God, you give me fucking everything, kiddo. You know that, right?" Dean's voice cracked, his green eyes pleading softly as they oozed sincerity._

 _It was nearly too much for Sam. The young boy tried and failed to swallow the lump in his throat and blink the moisture from his eyes, as he gave his big brother a shaky nod in reply._

 _"And you know that I would never ever hurt you. No matter what. That would never fucking happen. You know that, right?"_

 _"Why do you think I punched him?" Sam quipped around the emotion clogging his airway._

 _Dean chuckled, grinning as he briefly palmed the younger boy's cheek._

 _"That's my boy." Dean rasped for the second time that day, pride flowing through his tone and shining from his eyes, as he gently patted Sam's cheek before letting his hand fall away._

 _Sam beamed with joy, staring at his big brother – his hero – for a moment longer before chancing a glance to his left._

 _"Ha! Nice try, kiddo. Back to the Stooges, little man, until I'm finished." The teen admonished as he blocked Sam's view of his injured arm._

 _The younger boy released an exasperated huff, as was his little-brother duty, before doing what was asked of him . He found he was able to actually enjoy the humorous television show now that all of his fears and insecurities had been demolished by his big brother._

 _Because if someone as cool as Dean could like Sam, if someone as awesome as the older teenager enjoyed hanging out with Sam, if someone as strong and heroic as Dean could be proud of Sam; well, than Sam couldn't be all that bad._

 _Maybe he was even a little bit cool._

 _A short while later when the young boy saw his cast and the drawing of the Impala that strategically disguised the vial words that had once been so distressingly evident, Sam dared to think that maybe he was more than cool._

 _He was special._

 _Maybe only in the eyes of his big brother, but that was all that mattered to Sam. How Dean saw Sam, how he felt about him, that was all that had ever mattered to the youngest Winchester._

 _Dean was his big brother._

 _His hero._

 _His home._

 _His whole world._

 _And if the teen saw enough worth in Sam to spend an hour sketching a model of the Impala onto his cast, and he if cared about Sam enough to seek vengeance on the teenagers that hurt him, and if he loved Sam enough to skip his last class every day so that he could be outside the elementary school the moment the bell rang for the remainder of their time in town; if Dean could do all that for Sam without being asked or forced to, than that had to mean that the younger boy was special to him._

 _That Sam mattered to him._

 _That, according to Dean, he had worth._

 _And that was everything that Sam had ever wanted, or needed._

"Sam? You still there, man?"

The younger man snapped back to the present.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here." Sam stated, clearing his throat and standing up straighter, sending an impatient glance towards the office.

"You alright? You zoned out on me there for a minute." Dean was doing his best to sound nonchalant, but his little brother could clearly depict the underlying concern in his tone.

"I'm fine." Sam dismissed with a sigh.

"Is it your head?"

"No. I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" The hunter questioned in complete curiosity.

Sam was about to tell his brother not to worry about it, but then he took another look at the elderly woman still struggling with the photocopier, and decided a little conversation might help the time past. It also might distract Sam from the pain pounding in his skull, and maybe do the same for Dean and his knee.

"About that time I waited for you outside of school." Sam said, knowing that the vague reference would do the job. There was only one school the youngest Winchester had to wait out front of for his big brother, and there was only one occasion where it all went wrong; after which Dean had made certain that Sam was never left waiting for him again.

Sam could hear Dean's jaw click under the pressure of which it was being clenched.

"I don't want you thinking about that." The older man nearly growled.

Sam couldn't help but quirk a smile at the protective anger.

"Thinking isn't going to do me any harm, Dean." He fondly reminded his big brother.

"Maybe not, but recalling a shitty memory like that sure ain't going to do you any good either." Dean responded, rage still present in his tone all these years later.

"It wasn't all bad." Sam stated with a shrug.

"Oh really? Which part? The part where they shoved you so hard against that tree that your back was bruised and hurting for _weeks_? Or the part where they wrote that trash on your arm? Or how about the part where they made you feel like absolute garbage?" Dean ranted, livid disgust dripping from each and every word.

"I'm thinking maybe you're the one who should stop thinking about it." Sam suggested, both amused and touched that his older brother was still so furious about the wrongs that been committed against him in childhood.

"It wasn't me those bastards hurt, Sam." Dean grumbled.

"They threatened you." The younger man reminded the hunter.

"Yeah, through you." He spat back.

"They said it was you who broke my arm." Sam spoke softly.

Dean went quiet. Sam knew that the implication that his brother had been the one to bring him harm had caused Dean more pain than any physical attack ever could. And the fact that the older man was making no attempt to deny that, spoke volumes.

"And I know that they spread that lie all over your school." The younger man added.

"I had a bunch of assholes come up to me that Monday and pat me on the back." Dean snorted disgustedly.

Sam grimaced, knowing how much that would have stung his big brother. Causing Sam harm went against every fibre of Dean's being, and to have other people accuse or congratulate him for committing an act he would label as most egregious – an act that would repulse him to his very core - well that couldn't have been easy.

"How'd you know about that?" Dean questioned.

"My school was ten feet from yours, news travels fast." Sam reported, remembering having heard the rumours at his elementary school on the Monday he had returned to class. "I also recall hearing about the condition that Zack and his goons showed up to class in, all bloody and bruised."

"They didn't get it nearly as bad as you did." Dean bit out, regret flavouring his hate.

"From what I heard, they got it a lot worse." Sam commented, thinking of his classmates gossiping about the three teenagers who got the shit beat out of them over the weekend. The young boy had known instantly that it was his brother's handiwork. Dean must have stolen away at some point during the weekend to exact his revenge.

"Physically, maybe." Dean grunted.

"There's no 'maybe' about it." Sam stated.

"I can't believe I was friends with those scumbags."

The taller man didn't like the self-recrimination he heard in his brother's voice.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean. You couldn't have known what they were going to do. You're not the psychic of the family." Sam joked, hoping the levity wouldn't affect the gravity of his point.

"They bullied you, belittled you – a kid one-third their size - without any reason or provocation. I should have known that they were capable of shit like that."

"You were a teenager. Not a psychiatrist."

"That's no excuse." Dean dismissed.

"No, it's not. Because you don't need an excuse, because only guilty people need an excuse. And you aren't guilty of a damn thing." Sam declared assertively.

"Yes, Sir. Whatever you say." Dean mocked, but his little brother could hear the fond sincerity in his tone.

"Good." Sam affirmed with a nod, knowing that his older brother may not buy into all he had said, but at least Dean knew what Sam believed.

"Bossy Bitch." Dean accused, a smile in his voice.

"Stubborn Jerk." Sam quipped in return, relieved to finally see the librarian returning with his copied documents. He nodding his thanks as he reached out for them and began to make his way out of the building.

"You do know that I wouldn't get attacked by bullies on my way back to the motel, right?" Sam checked, spotting the classic black car idling outside.

"You're a trouble magnet, kiddo. There's no telling what could happen to you."

The youngest Winchester knew that the older one was joking, but he didn't miss the serious undertones in Dean's voice.

"Take all the time you need, Sammy. I'll wait."

His big brother, always the protector.

No one had ever made Sam feel more loved and cared for than his over-protective big brother.

Not their father.

Not even – God help him - Jess.

Nobody but Dean.

Sam grinned as he made his way towards the Impala.

He would never consider himself to be a particularly fortunate person.

He was constantly losing everything and everyone that he loved.

His dream of normalcy remained impossibly unattainable.

His life was wrought with chaos and tragedy.

No, Sam had never viewed himself as fortunate.

But he always knew how miraculously lucky he was to have a big brother like Dean.

A big brother who would give up his life for him.

A big brother who saw value in him.

A big brother who fought for him.

A big brother who saved him.

A big brother who waited.

Sam ended the call as he opened the passenger door and dropped down into his designated spot.

"What are you grinning about?" Dean questioned, an amused smirk on his face.

The taller man shrugged, his wide smile still firmly in place, as dimples pitted his cheeks.

"Nothing, just..." Sam faded off, unable to find the words. What could anyone say to sufficiently thank someone for being everything they ever needed? And what gratitude could Sam offer that his brother wouldn't scoff at, or shrug off in discomfort. Because Dean hated to be thanked, especially for doing things he thought should be expected of him. So, Sam elected simplicity, but he was sure to pour every ounce of love and appreciation into his tone, not holding anything back, knowing that his brother would be able to hear it.

Dean always heard what Sam's couldn't say.

"Thanks for waiting."

"Anytime, Sammy."

* * *

Note: This is going to be a two-shot. I am so sorry to those wondering why I am not on tumblr. I have gotten behind on the **again** but I finally finished moving and I am going away tomorrow. I am hoping to find some time during the week to catch up on the show, after which I will promptly return to the tumbling world. So sorry for my absence. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first instalment to this odd little creation.


	2. Chapter 2

It had started yesterday.

At first the hunter had noticed it out of the corner of his eyes, whenever his brother thought he wasn't looking.

But then Sam grew bolder.

He did it constantly, whether the older man was looking or not.

It was unsettling.

Dean's little brother kept smiling at him.

The older man had noticed at least a dozen times.

It was like the kid wasn't even trying to hide it.

Sam just kept grinning at him.

For no apparent reason.

Even now, as Dean sat diligently tweezing chunks of gravel from the wounds on his brother's arm, he would catch his little brother smiling at him. Whenever Sam face wasn't pinched in a grimace or twisted in pain, his lips were pulled up in a grin. If Dean had more than Advil to give the kid, he would have thought the younger man was flying high. Unfortunately their med-kit was running a little low, due to the flurry of injuries the two brothers had been obtaining recently, and the older hunter had nothing to give Sam that would properly relieve his agony.

And still, the little shit kept smiling.

"Stop that." Dean growled, not removing his gaze from the injury stretched out across the mattress in front of him.

"Stop what?" Sam rasped, a spark of curiosity diminishing some of the pain that clouded his hazel eyes.

"Staring at me."

"You've got me lying on my side, dude, there's not much else I can look at."

"Then close your eyes."

"You may not be much of a sight, Dean, but I'd rather stare at your ugly-mug than the inside of my eyelids." Sam retorted with a smirk.

"Then close your eyes and get some rest." The hunter suggested with an exasperated sigh, as he plucked another large piece of sediment from the bloody gash that ran almost the entire length of Sam's arm.

"There's no way that's happening. Not while your pulling crap from under my skin." Sam grit out between his teeth, as the tweezers re-entered the wound.

"It's not under your skin." Dean tossed back distractedly, carefully working to snag the pebble he could see embedded into the laceration.

"It would be, if I had any skin left." Sam grunted.

Dean grimaced at the statement, disliking it, regardless of its accuracy.

"You're such a drama queen." He mumbled.

"Says the guy who told me not to look at him." Sam huffed, amusement flavouring his pained tone.

"I don't have a problem with you looking, but the smiling is creeping me out." Dean admitted. He hadn't pointed it out until now, mostly because he wasn't sure his little brother knew that he was doing it, and because he didn't want to embarrass him.

Sam didn't make any attempt at denying the claim, his smile simply widening as he stared up at his big brother.

"Well, pretty soon you'll be digging all the crap out of my back, and then you won't have to be tortured by my grin a moment longer." The younger man offered optimistically.

Dean didn't even have it in him to continue with the banter. He found no humour in his little brother's current state of agony, and couldn't even bring himself to fake it. Not now.

Sam was a mess.

His back and left arm were shredded. There were large chunks of skin that had been ripped off, other pieces were hanging, and what little remained even remotely intact was stained with blood.

"I should have shot that fucker before he had the chance to drag you half way across the parking-lot." Dean seethed, picking out the last of the gravel and setting the tweezers aside before reaching for the whiskey.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean. Neither of us saw it until my foot was already in its mouth."

"Good thing you were wearing your steeled-toes, or that fugly creature would have sunk its damn teeth right through your foot."

"Yeah, shoes are ruined now, though." Sam stated mournfully, as though the work boots were his favorite pair of sneakers that had to be thrown out after a particularly messy hunt back when he was thirteen.

"Don't worry about the shoes, Sam. I'll buy you a new pair." Dean assured.

"As long as it's not out of guilt. Because none of this was your fault." Sam admonished.

The hunter took that moment to liberally pour the alcohol over the eviscerated limb. The younger man released a string of curses that he so seldom used, they sounded foreign falling from his lips.

"Still think I'm an innocent man, Sammy?" The older Winchester inquired with a smirk.

"You're far from innocent, Dean, but that doesn't mean you are guilty for _everything_."

"I never said I was." Dean tossed back, as he applied butterfly bandages to the few lacerations that were both deep and thin enough for the small medical strip to reach across it. He would stitch it he could, but there wasn't enough skin left behind to stitch together. Which was way too many levels of fucked up.

"No, but you act like it. And I wish you wouldn't. Sometimes shit just happens, and there's nothing you can do about it." Sam recited.

"Don't quote me to me, kid, that's just weird." Dean mumbled, gently wrapping the roll of gauze the younger man's left arm, covering every scrape and contusion, mummifying the limb.

"If you didn't want me quoting you, you shouldn't have taught me so much." Sam commented, a tight smile pulling at his lips, his long body twitching in discomfort as he shifted on the bed.

Dean frowned, his brow creased in concern as he caught on to all of his little brother's tell-tale signs of pain. The wrinkles around his eyes, the press of his lips, the pale pallor of his skin, the tension in his limbs; all of them evidence of Sam's struggle to control his pain. Dean inwardly berated himself. He never should have allowed the med-kit to run so low. John would have had his head for being so unprepared, but Dean didn't really give a shit about what his father would think, because his little brother's agony was all he could focus on.

"Cut it out, Dean."

The hunter frowned down at the younger man stretched out across the lumpy motel mattress.

"I didn't do anything? I'm just taping the gauze down."

"You're blaming yourself for us not having any of the good drugs."

Dean squinted over at his little brother, wondering –not for the first time – if the kid's psychic abilities had expanded into the art of mind-reading, because there was no way the older man was _that_ transparent.

"Don't give me that look. I've been able to read you since I was four, just like you have always been able to read me."

"I ain't giving you any look." Dean defended weakly.

"We are partners. Restocking the kit is both our responsibilities. So, you don't get to take all the credit for us being out of some supplies." Sam lectured evenly, levelling Dean with a stern look, even as his face with creased in pain.

The hunter swallowed the emotion that always welled up inside of him whenever his kid so freely offered him complete absolution.

"You feeling preachy today, little brother?" Dean quipped, as he carefully climbed over the slender frame and settled behind it on the mattress.

"You feeling deflective today, big brother?" Sam responded smoothly.

"No, I'm just a little preoccupied trying to piece you back together, Humpty Dumpty."

"Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall, he wasn't dragged across it." The thin man supplied with a tired sigh.

"Maybe he was dragged first. You don't know. You weren't there." Dean retorted distractedly, as his clinical gaze swept over the ruined back and he thought up the best way to treat the damage.

"No, Dean, you're right. I did not witness that fictional event." Sam stated flatly, in his I-can't-believe-I-actually-have-to-explain-this-shit tone.

"See? Now was that so hard to admit?" Dean joked, hoping the banter would distract his brother from the fucking stone that was being dug out from his back.

The choked-off whimper told him that he was out of luck, or rather, Sam was.

"I can't believe I missed it." Dean fumed under his breath.

"I thought we went over this. I didn't see it any sooner than you did." Sam rasped out, each word clipped short with pain.

The older man splayed his hand over his little brother's spine, willing the quivering muscles to still so that he could continue to dig out the grit without causing more damage.

"Maybe not, but I saw it once it grabbed you and it took me three damn shots to hit it."

"That's because it was fast and low to the ground, and my body was blocking your shot." Sam explained through gritted teeth, as the hunter at his back slid the tweezers into a particularly deep laceration.

"It wasn't that low. I missed the first two bloody shots and because of that you got dragged across the whole fucking parking lot and torn to hell." Dean spat, furious with himself, disgusted with his failure. If he had done better, if he had been better, Sam wouldn't be stretched out in front of him, shredded apart and trembling in agony.

What was the point of a lifetime worth of training if Dean couldn't keep his kid safe?

What was the point of anything if Sammy wasn't safe!?

How could Dean possibly fail his little brother in such a crucial way?

How could he be such a monumental screw up?

He was so fucking useless.

"Dean."

The gentle call calmed the storm of self-recrimination whirling inside of him, and settled his mind, if only for a brief moment.

"It's okay. I'm okay. You can't control everything and you can't be everywhere all the time. But you still _always_ do everything you can to protect me. And that's enough. That's always been enough, and it always will be."

Dean had heard that before. He had heard the soft earnest tone many times, but he had also heard those exact words from his little brother years ago.

And they had meant just as much to him then, as they did now.

 _Dean watched as his little brother shifted in discomfort on the couch._

 _The pain was making him restless._

 _The poor kid couldn't place any pressure on his back because of the bruising, and he couldn't lie on his front or his left side because of his busted arm; which left him curled up on his right side staring listlessly at the television._

 _The teen distractedly flipped the grilled-cheese on the motel hotplate, as he kept his eyes on the young boy in the other room. Sam didn't look as distressed as he had earlier. He was no longer sniffling or holding back tears, like he had been. The emotional hurt had been taken care of, now just the physical hurt remained, which Dean was unable to repair._

 _He hated that._

 _Healing Sam's emotional hurt was never easy. It always took some coaxing to get him to open-up about things, and then there was the search for the right words, the ones that would break through the insecurities that Dean's kid carried around inside him._

 _The insecurities that those bastards had targeted._

 _The insecurities that had Sam thinking he wasn't enough._

 _The insecurities that made the youngest Winchester believe that he didn't matter._

 _That he didn't have any worth._

 _That he wasn't special or important or worth fucking everything._

 _The insecurities that Dean had every intention of hunting down and demolishing one-by-one._

 _No, helping Sam to heal emotionally has never been easy._

 _But at least it was do-able with attentiveness, patience, and understanding._

 _Physical hurt didn't work the same way. There was nothing Dean could say or do, no chic-flick moment he could engage, that would take away the pain. He could dole out meds and apply ice, he could utilize all his medical training and even enlist the help of professionals when necessary, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Sometimes you just had to wait it out._

 _And Dean was okay with waiting, but not when his kid was hurting._

 _The teen placed the sandwich on a paper plate, emptying two ketchup packets onto the edge of the disposable dish. Dean snagged an apple juice from the fridge, opening the straw and popping it threw the hole. It was better to have everything prepared, that way Sam didn't feel so incapable, having to watch someone squeeze out his ketchup and open his juice-box for him._

" _Alright, little man, it's chow time." Dean announced, pasting a smile on his face as he entered the space._

 _Sam looked his brother's way and began to push himself vertical, wincing as he did._

" _Hold up, buddy. Let me help you out."_

" _It's okay, Dean. I'm not busted."_

" _No, but you're hurt. So, just let me help you out."_

 _Sam released an exasperated sigh, but didn't shake off the large hands that slid beneath his shoulder and lifted him up into a seated position. The younger boy hissed as he moved to lean back against the couch, and hunched himself forward to keep his spine from pressing against the surface._

" _Dean." Sam croaked._

 _Dean had been watching closely, as he always was, and already had a solution prepared._

" _I gotcha, buddy. Just hold tight for one second." The teen stated, squeezing the slender shoulder, swallowing the anger and self-loathing that came alive at the sound of Sammy's shallow inhales and his pained call for help._

 _Dean leapt over to the bed closest to the door and grabbed the two pillows off it. He returned to Sam and slid the cushions in behind him._

" _Okay, let's try that." The older boy suggested, keeping a steadying grip on Sam's right arm as he guided him to rest back against the pillows. "How's that?"_

" _Better." Sam sighed, his dimples flashing up at his older brother, as if Dean had done anything of significance._

 _As if he had done something great._

 _As if he hadn't allowed the kid to be victimized by his asshole friends._

 _As if he wasn't the most useless big brother to ever walk the earth._

" _Dean? Are you okay?"_

 _The teen blinked himself to attention and nodded down at the child staring up at him with his head cocked to the side._

" _Yeah- yeah I'm good. How about you? Do you want me to grab your sling for you? I know that your arm is still pretty sore."_

" _No, It's okay. I like looking at it." Sam declared, indicating the drawing on his cast._

 _And, damn, if the kid didn't beam up at Dean with a brilliant grin and a face glowing with adoration. Dean couldn't stop the swell of his heart or the smile that pulled at his lips. The older brother knew he was in no way deserving of all the love Sam willingly granted him, but he couldn't help his body's reaction to it, he couldn't help accept it._

 _He needed it._

 _More than he had ever needed anything in his life._

 _But he didn't deserve it. Maybe if he had been there. Maybe if he had stopped it. Maybe if he had protected his kid. Then maybe he would deserve it. But that wasn't the case._

 _Dean was all-too aware that he didn't deserve his little brother's adoration or unconditional love._

 _But it meant the world to him._

" _Dean? Are you sure you're okay?"_

 _The questioned pulled the teen from his wandering thoughts._

" _I'm good. I'm just going to grab you a pillow for your arm." The teen announced, glancing around the room, lost for a moment, before snapping back into focus and moving to grab another pillow. He placed the cushion on Sam's left side and carefully situated the busted limb on top of it. Dean could feel his little brother's eyes on him, but he ignored them as he placed the dinner plate on the knobby set of knees and balanced the juice-box on the arm of the couch._

" _There you go. You're all set, little man."_

" _Where's yours?"_

" _I'm not that hungry right now, I'll eat later." Dean reported with a shrug. It was true. How could he even think about food when his mind was so preoccupied? When all he could think about was his kid brother being threatened and abuse. When every time he looked at Sam's cast all he saw was the hateful inscription that had been there._

" _Not hungry? You? Are you sure you're okay?" There was humour in the young boy's tone, but an even stronger concern._

" _Yes. Stop asking already. I'm fine." Dean immediately regretted his harsh response as he watched his little brother shy away. He reached out and gripped Sam's chin, tilting his head back up. "You don't need to worry about me, kiddo, I'm okay." He assured softly, even trying for a smile._

" _You don't look it." Sam muttered, pulling his chin from his brother's hold and staring down at his lap._

" _What do you mean by that?" Dean questioned, moving to sit on the coffee table directly in front of the youngest Winchester, their knees touching._

 _Sam shrugged evasively as he picked at his sandwich._

" _C'mon, kiddo. Don't shut me out now." The teen prompted gently, tapping the kid's thin legs._

 _The shaggy-headed child glanced timidly over at his older brother, hazel eyes peaking out from beneath brown bangs. He chewed on his lip, uncertainty emitting from his small frame, before he released a reluctant sigh._

" _You don't seem okay. You seem sad or upset. Not okay." Sam whispered._

 _Dean frowned. On occasion he forget how perceptive his little brother could be, how well he could read Dean even at his young age. The teen did his best not to be too transparent, he always did what he could to hide any fear and distress from his little brother, but he had a feeling that Sam had been seeing through his charade for years._

 _Apparently, he had spent more time in him mind than he thought he had, because Sam began to speak again._

" _You don't have to tell me anything. It's just…" He faded off, snagging his bottom lip between his teeth._

" _It's just what, Sammy?" Dean encouraged softly, intentionally knocking his knees against his little brother's._

" _It's just that you always want me to tell you when I'm not okay so you can make it better. And you always make it better." Sam added with a twitch of a smile._

 _Dean grinned in return, feeling his heart fill as joy erupted from within him. He had always wanted to be the one that made things better for his kid. He had always wanted to be the person who could return that brilliant dimpled smile to the young face, and bring forth the sparkle of the wide hazel eyes. There was no skill he possessed – no hunting or mechanical talent – that he was more proud of than his ability to make his brother feel safe and happy, to make things better for Sammy._

" _And I just wish that—" Sam sucked in a deep breath as he returned to fiddling with his sandwich for another minute, before looking back up. "I wish that maybe sometimes you could tell me when you're not okay…and maybe I could try and make things better."_

 _And wasn't that just so fucking Sam? He was the one who had been bullied, belittled, and abused and yet the selfless little munchkin was wanting so badly to make things better for Dean. Dean who had not only gotten away entirely unharmed, but had failed to protect the youngest Winchester the way he was meant to._

 _Dean who hadn't protected Sam from having his armed snapped by the last supernatural fugly the hunted._

 _Dean, who seemed to be constantly fucking-up his most important job._

" _Never mind. It was a stupid idea. Just forget it." Sam mumbled, his gaze dejectedly dropping down._

" _It's not stupid." Dean objected._

 _The younger boy glanced back up, apprehension lining his features._

" _It's not stupid." The teen repeated, before taking a breath. "It's just not easy for me. The sharing and caring bit has never been in my skillset."_

" _It's okay, Dean. It's fine. I know you deal with things differently. It's alright. I probably wouldn't be as good at making things better as you are anyway." Sam stated, giving Dean an understanding smile, but he couldn't hide the disappointment shining through his eyes._

 _How the hell could this kid only be eleven-years-old?_

 _His maturity lever superseded any other kid his age, Dean, and quite possibly even John at times._

 _Sam trusted Dean with his fears, his emotions, and his life._

 _No matter how many times the older boy failed him, Sam's faith in him never wavered, and that was one of the things that had kept Dean going through the years._

 _It was only fair that Dean return the favour._

" _I'm angry that those assholes messed with you." He confessed gruffly, watching Sam nod along._

" _Yeah. I know, but it's not just that. There's something else."_

 _Of course Sam knew. The kid could always see right through his big brother._

" _And I'm pissed that I wasn't there to protect you."_

" _Dean—_

" _You got hurt on my watch, Sammy, by scumbags I was actually friends with. That's on me." Dean interrupted before his little brother could make excuses for him._

" _No, it's not. It's on them." The younger boy declared._

" _I should have seen it." Dean dismissed._

" _You should have known they were going to hurt me? Not being a fortune-teller is a stupid thing to feel guilty for, Dean." Sam grumbled._

 _The teen smirked. Sometimes he saw himself shining through his kid – only the good parts - and it always made him glow with pride._

" _I should have known they were capable of that. How could I be friends with douchebags who would pull shit like that with any kid, let alone my little brother?"_

 _What the hell does that say about me? was the question that remained unspoken, but Dean had a feeling that Sam heard it anyways._

" _Dean."_

 _The teen raised his head up from where it had been hanging in shame, meeting the soft hazel gaze that patiently observed him._

" _You're nothing like those guys. You would never treat anyone like that. And you would never ever hurt me." The young boy announced with all the conviction in the world._

 _Dean nodded, his body physically reacting to the truth of those words._

" _I know." He rasped after a moment. "But I still should have protected you."_

" _You did. The second you knew something was wrong, even before I told you what happened, you protected me."_

 _Dean's lips flattened into a line as he hopelessly shook his head._

 _Because it wasn't enough that he had made it better after the fact._

 _It never should have fucking happened._

" _Dean."_

 _Sam had moved closer, his dinner placed to the side as he shifted forward to the edge of the couch and ducked down into his older brother's lowered eyesight; it was a move that had been demonstrated and perfected by Dean over the years, one which Sam performed flawlessly. The teen gave his little brother the requested attention, swallowing at the compassion and love pouring from the puppy-dog eyes._

" _It's okay. I'm okay. You can't control everything and you can't be everywhere all the time. But you still do everything to protect me. And that's enough. That's always been enough, and it always will be."_

 _It was as though Sam had repaired every broken piece inside of Dean._

 _The unwavering faith._

 _The absolution._

 _The adoration._

 _The love._

 _It all swam through the older boy, filling every crack in his heart, mending each fracture in his soul, making him whole once more._

 _All the teen could do was nod and slide his palm to the back of his little brother's neck, squeezing softly as he rested his forehead against Sam's, giving as much comfort as he was absorbing._

 _Later that evening when Dean was seated on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, he would think about the child stretched out across the couch and nestled into his side._

 _Sam was the good down to his very core. He had the gentlest spirit and the most compassionate nature. He was the kindest and most forgiving individual Dean had ever known, or would ever know. He had no reason to be sweet or soft or gracious, he just was. Despite a life of trauma, pain, and violence, Sam remained so goddamn good._

 _Sam had more virtue in his little finger, than Dean had any hope in hell of having in his entire body._

 _And if someone like that, if someone like Sam; someone who oozed compassion, someone who was gentle and kind, someone who was mature and intelligent, someone with a heart of gold, if someone like that wanted to be around Dean, if someone like that could forgive Dean, if someone like that could look up at Dean with unabashed adoration, if someone like that could love Dean…than Dean couldn't be all bad. Could he?_

 _If his kid could maintain faith in him, regardless of his countless flaws and failures, then that had to mean that Dean had worth._

 _That he mattered._

 _And maybe only Sam saw value in Dean, but that was all he needed._

 _Sam was all he needed._

 _Sam was his brother._

 _His best friend._

 _His anchor._

 _His whole world._

 _And if Sam saw enough worth in him to try and protect him from bullies, and to want to heal Dean's hurt, and to trust him, and fill him with an adoring and unconditional love; if Sam could do all that for Dean without it being required or demanded of him, then that had to mean Dean was special to him._

 _That Dean mattered to him._

 _That, according to Sam, he had worth._

 _And that was everything that Dean could ever want or need._

"Dean? You okay back there?"

The concerned inquiry pulled the older Winchester from his reflective state.

"Yeah. I'm good." He stated, shaking the memory off as his focus returned to the task at hand.

"What were you thinking about?" Sam questioned, flinching as Dean pulled more sediment from his wounds.

"Nothing." Dean evaded, as he carefully proceeded ridding his brother's bloody back of gravel.

"Dean." The younger man grit out.

The older man huffed, wondering how he was so transparent to his little brother, but anyone else he could fool without issue, including his father.

"The same thing you were thinking about yesterday." He grunted.

"Vague much? I think about lots of things over the course of a day."

"Yeah, cause you're a dork."

Dean could practically hear Sam roll his eyes.

"What thing, specifically?" The injured man grit out between clenched teeth.

Dean wasn't keen on bringing it up, especially since he had previously insisted his little brother not think about that particular event, but it might provide a sufficient distraction from the pain, and he knew Sam well enough to know the kid wouldn't drop it.

"Those assholes that messed with you outside of the high school."

"I thought we already went through that?"

Dean shrugged, knowing his brother couldn't see him, but Sam must have sensed the ambiguous reaction.

"What those assholes did wasn't your fault." Sam stated strictly. "And you're nothing like them, you never were." He added with just as much certainty.

Dean made a non-committal noise, as he picked more debris from Sam's shredded skin.

"You weren't. And you protected me. Anytime I think about what happened back then, I always remember how you protected me." The younger man announced softly, fondness pouring from his husky tone.

"Is that why you've been staring at me so much?" Dean questioned, wondering if the memory and the intent gaze were at all connected.

Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, probably. I guess I just remember how lucky I am." He rasped, as smile in his voice.

"Lucky?" Dean repeated, baffled by the idea. Sam was a lot of things, but the kid sure as shit had never had a goddamn lick of luck on his side.

"Having a big brother who has always been willing to stand between me and the scumbags of the world? Yeah, I'd call that lucky."

Dean swallowed at the words, thankful that the kid couldn't see the girlie emotion that was probably written all over his face.

Sam always knew how to do that to him.

To take one simple phrase and use it to make Dean fucking melt.

His kid had always been the only one who could do that to him.

The only one who could transform him into sentimental mush.

The only one who could overwhelm him with emotion.

The only one who could make Dean feel loved.

Absolutely, completely, and unconditionally loved.

Dean was the lucky one.

He knew that.

No one had a little brother like his.

A little brother who protected him.

A little brother who cared for him.

A little brother who wanted to make things better for him.

A little brother who trusted him.

A little brother who saw value in him.

A little brother who had faith in him.

A little brother who made him whole.

Dean would never be able to do enough good in his life to be deserving of having a little brother like Sam. But he would never stop trying.

Because Sam gave him worth and purpose and hope.

Sam gave him _everything_.

And it was only fair that Dean give as much back as he possibly could.

He wanted to give Sammy everything, because Dean's kid deserved _everything_.

"It's true, not every guy would spend their Friday night picking pebbles out of their brother's back. They broke the mold when they made me, kiddo." Dean joked with a smile, responding to heart-swelling emotion the only way he knew how.

Sam released an exasperated sigh, his breath hitching at the end of it, as a shudder tore through his long limbs. He had been sweating as his arm was treated and now that glistening moisture was drying in the cold air. Dean reached down and tugged the comforter up further over Sam's legs, but had to leave it at his hip.

"We'll get you warmed up right after I deal with your back, buddy, alright?"

"It's okay, Dean. Do what you've got to do. I'll wait."

The older man smiled.

God, he loved his kid.

"And Sam?"

"Yeah."

"You're not the only lucky one."

 **The End**

* * *

Note: There is the final half. I really hope you babes enjoyed it :) I would love a comment/review if you have a spare moment. Thanks for reading!

Also, If you could do me a quick favour, for this class I am in I have to list my writing strengths and weaknesses and I had no issue coming up with a hole page of weaknesses, but if you maybe had any idea for some of my strengths that would be super helpful! You could leave it in the comment or pm me :) Thanks so much! - Sam


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